Behind the Trees
by A Fire in the Attic
Summary: In which Derek buys a house with a pool in the backyard, reconnects with his pack, gives Scott relationship advice, makes a grilled cheese sandwich, and falls in love. Oh, and there's definitely a pool party.
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt:** Pack pool day! Perhaps Derek buys the pack a house to share and it has a pool? (Sterek and/or Scisaac?)

**Word Count: **7548

Pairings:

Sterek, Scallisaac, Boyd/Cora, Aidya, Dethan (mentioned).

Notes:

Okay so this is only vaguely related to the prompt but I promise there is a pool party. Eventually. But first we have pack healing because apparently I just want Derek to be friends with his pack. This is the direction I want Teen Wolf to move even if this is completely out of character for how everyone is currently behaving. Just ignore that.

The title comes from Purple Glow by Arcadia Gardens. :)

* * *

**October**

"This one," Erica says, grabbing his arm and shaking it. "Stop, stop, stop!"

Derek pulls over. "We haven't even been inside yet," he replies, frowning. He's not sure how Erica managed to wrangle herself into shotgun. Cora has had dibs on it for the past month, but today, she's in the back, sitting between Boyd and Isaac and frowning petulantly.

Erica scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Can't you feel it?" She jumps out of the car, slamming the door behind her and hurrying up to the house. "Come on!" She shouts before slipping inside the house.

Boyd gets out of the car and follows her up the walkway. "At least it's an open house," he mutters.

Derek groans and knocks his head against the steering wheel.

"As weird as this may sound," Cora says primly, "I think she's right." She slides across the backseat.

Derek sits up and looks at Isaac in the rear view mirror. Things are still rough between them, but he's _trying _to fix it.

Isaac blinks at him, tense, waiting for an indication of what Derek wants.

"What do you think?" he asks, because otherwise they'll be stuck there in a staring contest until Erica comes back and tells him they have to buy the house.

He shrugs and slumps in the backseat. His knees push against Derek's seat. "Haven't seen it, yet."

"Well, let's go," Derek suggests. He gets out and walks around to shut Boyd's door. _Irresponsible kids_, he laments.

Isaac shuts his own door and walks behind Derek, just to the right.

He still hasn't figured out if the boy is trying to claim the spot of second (which he deserves, admittedly) or if he just doesn't want to turn his back to Derek. Either way, Derek is trying to let him have what he wants. If he eases back into a good relationship with him, everything should be okay.

When they get inside the house, the realtor hands Derek a pamphlet and gives him a weird look. His reputation must precede him. He doesn't let it bother him, just browsing through the brochure as he moves slowly through the entry way. He can hear Erica and Cora arguing about who should get the bedroom at the end of the hall and Boyd snickering.

The house has four bedrooms with walk in closets in each, and three full bathrooms. It's not big enough to house the whole pack, but he could put bunk beds in for sleepovers on weekends, maybe...

He looks up to discover he's wandered into the living room. "The wallpaper is awful," he tells Isaac, who is still hovering nervously beside him.

"Mm," Isaac agrees.

Derek turns to look at him, sensing that the anxiety isn't just because of whatever issues he's got with Derek at the moment.

He's standing maybe two inches behind him, jaw clenched while he stares at the ground.

Derek looks over his shoulder to see the realtor watching Isaac.

"I knew your dad," the man says.

Isaac tenses more.

"He didn't die very long ago," Derek says coolly. "Please don't remind him about everything that went down. Could you actually give us some space? I'll come to you if I have any questions." He doesn't mind being dismissive of people who irritate him. If he ends up picking this house, he hopes he won't have to deal with the realtor too much. Maybe he can do it all while Isaac is at school.

The realtor leaves the room, maybe to go check on the other three.

Derek reaches around Isaac to clamp an arm around his shoulders. "Come on," he says. "Let's look around."

The two of them move through the dining room ("It's nice," Isaac manages to spit out) and into the kitchen, which is smaller than the one Derek grew up with, but bigger than his current one. "Erica would like this, huh?" he says, looking over at Isaac with a hopeful smile.

He nods, drifting away from Derek to brush his hands over the counter tops. "Looks like the previous owner renovated everything," he says. "Granite."

"It is nice," he agrees. He opens the oven. It's clean. "Bedrooms?" he suggests, and Isaac nods.

Three of the four bedrooms have basically the same layout—a small window on one wall and a big, bay-style window on another. The beds are tucked into corners of each room, and there's plenty of room left over for things like desks and bookshelves.

"I like this one," Isaac says shyly, when they open the door to the room that's been painted blue. It's not the one Cora and Erica were arguing over, so Derek doesn't see a problem in preemptively assigning it to him.

He crosses the room and opens the closet. "What would anyone even keep in here?" he mutters, walking inside.

Isaac doesn't follow him inside, waiting across the room tensely. "Clothes," he suggests. "Board games."

He snorts. "Okay."

They go to the master bedroom last. Derek will have to take this room by virtue of being alpha. That would probably be attractive, if he really cared about it.

The room is huge, of course, with enough room for a king-sized bed, two writing desks on either side and two closets. They're smaller than the walk in ones, but combined, there's probably the same amount of space. Derek doesn't own very much, honestly, so the space seems excessive. At least there will be enough room to fit weights, if he decides to buy some.

"Do you like it?" Isaac asks.

"The wallpaper doesn't extend past the living room," he says. "So that's a plus." He goes into the master bathroom and smiles appreciatively at the size of the bathtub. It's not like ever takes baths (who has the time?) but the thought is nice. There's a shower stall, too, which he steps inside to check out. It's decent.

"If you buy this house, can I use your bath?" Isaac wonders, taking a seat on the edge of the tub. "It has jets."

He snorts and nods.

Down the hall, Erica shrieks, "Derek, there's a _pool_!"

Derek is basically sold on the house, anyway, but he agrees to make an offer after Erica reminds him that she's just returned from the dead and she should get _something_ out of it.

He moves into the house within the next month.

* * *

**November**

"Can we have a pool party?" Erica asks one day. Technically, she doesn't live with them, but she comes over often enough that it feels like she does.

"Stop moving," Cora scolds. She's crouched at Erica's feet, painting her toenails gold. "You'll get carpet hairs on my brush."

"It's November," Derek protests.

"So?"

"It's too cold," he says.

"Fine," she sighs. "But we will eventually, _right_?"

"Sure," he says, and returns his attention to his laptop. There's been some mysterious killings in a town about an hour away, just on the other side of the preserve. All signs point to the killer being a wendigo, which is something he doesn't _want_ to deal with, but will if it moves toward Beacon Hills.

His first priority is keeping the information away from Stiles, who would probably dig deep enough into the articles that he'd end up driving over just because he wanted to see the wendigo. And he'd probably drag Scott along, which would mean Isaac would go, followed by Erica and Boyd.

Not Cora, though. She had a really great sense of self-preservation.

Anyway, the wendigo isn't in his territory yet, which means it's not his problem.

* * *

**December**

It's not like Derek has been keeping his new living arrangement from Scott and Stiles, he just hadn't gotten around to telling them.

Of course Scott didn't see it that way.

Stiles launches himself onto the couch next to him. "Heeeey, Derek," he says, grinning. "How's it hangin'?"

"Why didn't you tell me you moved?" Scott demands, crossing his arms huffily.

"I haven't talked to you since I did," he answers evasively. "Didn't seem relevant."

"It's irrelevant until you call me to come rescue you," Scott grumbles.

"When has that _ever_ happened?" Derek asks disbelievingly.

Stiles nods, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table that Cora had painted daisies all over. (Apparently Boyd had found it on the curb down the street from his house. Cora had treated it as a canvas instead of a place to set her coffee, which, to be fair, she didn't drink. Also, Derek hadn't really minded.) He throws an arm around Derek, all full of kinetic energy that means he doesn't do anything slowly. "He has a point, Scotty-boy. He prefers to throw himself in front of moving cars to ask for help."

"You are aggressively irritating," Derek tells him.

"You love it."

"No."

Scott clears his throat. "The _point _is, I would like to know when this kind of stuff happens. I thought that was the deal with our new...treaty or whatever."

"Scott," Derek says tiredly. "You won't even acknowledge the fact that you've achieved alpha status. We don't have a treaty. What we decided is that we're going to live peacefully."

"Which we are!" Stiles pipes up.

"I need to know where you are," Scott argues hotly. "The territorial urges—"

"You're right; sorry," Derek sighs, knocking his head back. He hits Stiles forearm, which...he'd forgotten that was there. Vaguely unsettling. He pretended he wasn't bothered, though, because at the slightest sign of weakness, the two of them will attack, no holds barred.

"Really?" Scott says, apparently stumped at Derek's lack of antagonism.

"Yeah," he says, sitting up again. "As an alpha who is sharing your territory, I should have mentioned it." He tries not to think about Scott and his pack of humans—and alpha twins that Derek pretends don't exist any more—counting as a pack, usually, but he can't be surprised. Scott isn't a typical werewolf. Of course he refuses to have a typical pack.

"Cool," Scott says, the wind clearly gone from his sails. He probably hadn't been expecting the abrupt apology. It's nice to be able to surprise him.

"Sooooo," Stiles drawls. "Now that _that's_ settled. Don't you have homework to do with Isaac?"

"Oh, yeah. Later!" Scott says, and jogs down the hall to Isaac's room.

Stiles stays on the couch and leans forward to grab the remote. His arm knocks into Derek as he leans forward.

Derek sighs. "You're a disaster."

"A beautiful one?"

"No."

* * *

**January**

Toward the end of January, Isaac comes home from school with a weird look on his face.

On the couch, Cora squints at him. "What's wrong with you?" She's supposed to be working on her GED, but instead she's browsing a site called...Polyvore?

"Don't bother him," Derek says tiredly. There haven't been any more reports of deaths from the wendigo, at least not in any newspaper he can find. It's possible that some hunters came in and took care of it...or the wendigo might have moved further away from the territory.

Of course, he doesn't really believe in scenarios where things work out for him. So the wendigo is probably in his territory, doing a really good job of hiding the bodies or something.

"It's okay," Isaac mumbles. He's gnawing his lips and drumming his fingers. "Scott and Allison are fighting, is all."

"So?" Cora snipes, clicking on a blue dress and dragging it across the screen. "What else is new?"

"They're fighting about me?" Isaac says, beginning to look confused. "I don't really...I think Allison thinks Scott is in love with me or something. Which is dumb, because Scott loves Allison more than he loves the sun. Probably."

Isaac is probably right about that, Derek thinks privately. But being in New York taught him a lot of things that a high school sex ed class never did. "You know people can love more than one person, right?"

"It's not the same," Isaac says. The confusion is shifting to agitation.

"Maybe," Derek says, shrugging. He feels like he knows Scott pretty well now, and he'd hazard a guess that Isaac is only partially right about that. Scott loves Allison, sure. Maybe she _is_ his sun. But sometimes it seems like Isaac is becoming his moon, at the very least.

He doesn't know how Stiles fits in. The two of them seem to occupy the same space more often than not, and he supposes that maybe Stiles is at Scott's core, and vice versa.

Why is he comparing Scott to a planetary system? He needs to sleep, clearly.

"It's going to be fine," he tells Isaac. He'll talk to Scott about it next time he sees him. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Erica is sleeping in your bed," Cora announces.

He can't really bring himself to be surprised, but when he reaches his bedroom, he shakes her awake. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Erica bats at his arm and shakes her head before burying herself more deeply in the covers. "Just came back from the dead," she slurs. "Get some time off."

"It's been a few months," he say, settling in next to her. "Shouldn't you be over this by now?"

"It's been a couple years. Shouldn't you be over _something_ by now?" she snarks, rolling to look at him.

He lets her stay in the bed.

* * *

**February**

Scott knocks before he walks into the house, which is actually really considerate. Everyone else just barges in, which is _annoying_, but it's not like he doesn't know they're there before they make it to the door.

No one else is at the house just then, so Derek opens the door to let him in. He could have yelled that the door was open, but if Scott is affording him human courtesy, he can do the same.

"Allison broke up with me again," Scott says with no preamble. He flops onto the loveseat, face down.

He settles in on the couch, stretching his legs across the cushions while he observes Scott's moping. "Why?" he asks, when it becomes clear that Scott has nothing else to say.

"She thinks I'm in love with Isaac," he sighs.

"Hmm."

"I told her that didn't even make sense," he continues, unconcerned with Derek's non-response. "Because I love her, like, _so much_. Stiles is always embarrassed of how much I love her, man."

He knew he would have to deal with this sooner or later. He sighs and wonders how this happened. Scott isn't even _pack_, so he shouldn't be dealing with his issues.

And yet he can't forget telling Scott that they were brothers. Even if Scott doesn't want to acknowledge it, it's still true for Derek.

Plus, the situation is upsetting Isaac, who _is_ pack.

He crosses his arms and then uncrosses them. "Scott, it's okay to love more than one person," he says hesitantly.

"It's not like _that_," he protests.

"Isn't it?" Derek says coolly, lifting a single brow. He resolutely does not think of anything Stiles would have to say about the movement. His facial expressions are his own business.

Scott scowls at him. Then his face softens and he mutters, "I don't know."

"From an outsider's point of view, it kind of seems like you are," he says gently.

"But..._Allison_," Scott protests.

"It's like I said," he sighs. "You can love more than one person. Polyamory is a thing."

"Polyamory?" he repeats, scrunching up his face. "I've never heard of that, but based on the prefix and suffix, I'm guessing it means, like, being in a relationship with more than one person?"

He nods. "Right."

"And that's okay?"

"If everyone consents," he agrees. "Stiles would probably be able to help you find out more about it. I don't know much about it. I just had some friends in New York who were in a polyamorous relationship with my neighbor. They were happy."

Scott is looking more and more relieved. Maybe he knew what his feelings for Isaac were all along, but couldn't acknowledge them until someone he trusted told him it was okay.

Which does _not _make Derek feel warm and fuzzy inside, all right?

"Thanks, Derek," Scott says. He leaves pretty quick after that.

Isaac gets home just twenty minutes later and sniffs the air kind of obviously—Derek seriously needs to train his betas _better_—and says, "Scott was here? Is he okay?"

"I think he will be," Derek says, shrugging. "Don't worry."

He gets an incoherent text message from Stiles that night from which he garners that Scott has shown up to mope and make Stiles teach him things.

"What even is polyamory? Why did you sick my best friend on my like this?!"

Derek rolls his eyes and texts back, "If he's your best friend it's your responsibility to be with him at this time anyway."

"Usually i just get him drunk!" Stiles replies. He's used six exclamation points, and Derek can't help but roll his eyes. It's over-dramatic and 100% Stiles.

"Stop abusing exclamation points."

Stiles sends back five text messages that alternate between exclamation points, the number one, and at signs.

The sixth text reads, "NEVER" and has at least eight exclamation points attached.

Derek doesn't smile. Not even a _little_.

* * *

**March**

Erica shows up with everything she needs to make sure the pool is properly chlorinated. She has a thermometer, too, which she promptly drops into the pool. She starts scooping out the leaves.

"Don't you think it's still a little cool for this?" Derek asks her. He followed her outside when she'd breezed through the house.

"No," she says, shooting him a look. "Besides, I'm chill enough to handle anything.

"Sure," he says, settling in on the deck chair she'd produced.

When the pool is reading at the right chlorine level and the leaves are all cleaned out, she kneels by the side and pulls out the thermometer. "It's 68 degrees," she says, and turns to look at him. "It will be cold—" she dips her fingers into the water and shivers—"but probably worth it." Without hesitating, she tugs her shirt off and drops her pants. She'd come prepared, wearing a dark green strapless one-piece beneath her clothes. "Wish me luck," she intones, and then plunges into the water.

"You're an idiot," he tells her, when she screams about how cold it is as she resurfaces.

**April**

Derek is watching the news when Isaac burst into the house, radiating joy. It's a sharp contrast to how Derek feels, which is, at the moment, trepidation and vague despair. Two hikers have gone missing near the preserve, just ten minutes outside of his territory. It might not be the wendigo, but with his luck...well. It might as well be something _worse_.

He puts on a happy face for Isaac. The kid can probably already tell how Derek is really feeling—even if he didn't have werewolf sense, he had an uncanny ability to read people. "What's up?" he asks, going for cheerful. He probably comes across as uncomfortable.

Isaac frowns at him, but apparently his own happiness is enough for him to overcome the worry. "I have a boyfriend. And a girlfriend."

_Finally_, Derek thinks, but he says, "Congratulations."

"Can they spend the night this weekend?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows hopefully.

Derek really doesn't want to hear Isaac having sex, and especially not with Scott or Allison _Argent_. "Are you already at that point?" he almost-but-not-quite wheezes.

Isaac's face burns bright red. "No, not yet. Just. To. Um. Sleep."

Well, that's relieving at least. "Sure, fine, whatever."

"It's okay? I mean. To have another alpha stay here?" he wonders.

"It's Scott," Derek says, shrugging. "Of course it's fine."

When Erica comes over later, she collapses on the couch and lets out a very put-upon sigh. "I can't believe I've never had a boyfriend but Isaac gets to date _two_ people."

From the kitchen, where he's blending whey protein with a fruit smoothie, Derek shrugs. "Date Boyd," he suggests.

Erica slides into the kitchen on her socks, catching herself on the counter and hopping up to sit on it. "Boyd likes Cora; Cora likes Boyd. They don't know how to express it to each other, is all."

There's a mortified choking noise from the direction of Cora's room.

"Do you even like anyone?" Derek asks Erica doubtfully. He's going to ignore anything involving Cora's love life until he actually has to give Boyd the concerned big brother talk. It will probably be better for everyone this way.

"No, I don't think so," Erica says, kicking her feet against the cupboard beneath her. "Well, maybe Jackson. But he's still in London."

"You liked _Jackson_ ?" he asks incredulously. He's not sure why anyone would actually _like_ Jackson. Sure, from an objective point of view, the kid wasn't bad looking, but he had such a terrible personality. "He was literally a murder lizard."

"Hey, you don't judge me for my crush, and I won't judge you for yours," she says, jabbing his shoulder. "Can I have a banana?"

"Sure," he says, starting the blender again. "I don't have a crush."

"Right," she agrees, peeling the banana. "I know all about it. No worries, I mean, I totally get it. It's his mouth, right? Or maybe the moles...No, the fingers, definitely."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says stubbornly. His smoothie is finished. He pours it into a glass and leaves the kitchen.

Erica hops down from the counter and follows him. She takes a bite of the banana and keeps talking. "Don't be embarrassed. Stiles is hot. And funny. Ooh, and smart."

"I don't like him. I can't stand him," Derek insists.

"That's such a lie," she scoffs. "it's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed of you. Why are you embarrassing me?"

"I don't like him."

"Do so. And I'm not going to listen to you."

"I don't care."

"Is it because he's underage? Because he turned 17 six months ago. He won't be jailbait for long."

"Erica, _please_ . Stop."

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_ ."

"Please, just. Go outside. Swim or something."

"'Kay," she says, shrugging. She throws the banana peel and it slaps his face. "But seriously. Think about it."

It probably means something good that they can banter like this, that she can tease him without worrying that he'll snap and break her arm. After (most of) the alphas had left town, he'd made an effort to be more approachable, to be a friend instead of a tyrant. He thinks it's strengthened the pack just as much as having a stable home base with beds for everyone. Of course, he feels far more grounded now that Cora is his family instead of Peter. That probably helps.

(The tug-of-war with Scott isn't so bad any more, either, now that Scott is truly the alpha of his own pack, now that he sees Derek as a helper, a mentor, a brother, instead of an enemy.

And maybe he learns things from Scott, too. To stop throwing himself into harms way, to think of how lost his pack would be without him.

It's easier when he places the value on his betas instead of himself.)

Erica takes her clothes off and leaves them in a pile by the door. She's wearing the same green swimsuit from last time. Should she have more than one? Is that typical for a teenage girl?

Derek wouldn't know. The Hales didn't have a swimming pool—too many children running around. This is a first for him as much as it is for Erica. But he doesn't know very much about looking after teenage girls. Cora is so used to handling everything herself that he usually just offers advice and a credit card. Sometimes he helps her with schoolwork, but it's been a few years since he got his GED and he doesn't always know how to help her. She thinks he should go back to school. He thinks about it sometimes.

"Hey," Erica says, looking over her shoulder at him with a small smile as she opens the door. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone."

"Well, Cora knows now," he points out.

"You admitted it," she crows, and down the hall, Cora says, "I already knew, _doofus_ ."

He tries not to—what did Stiles call it? Facepalm?—and waves a hand at her. "Go. Please. Before I get overwhelmed and strangle you."

She blows a kiss at him and dances across the deck before leaping into the pool.

The door swings shut and Derek boots up his laptop. He needs to review the beastiary's entry on wendigos.

It won't be long.

* * *

**April 2.0**

Boyd hovers uncertainly in the doorway of Derek's room, holding a mug of what's probably coffee and wearing pajamas. It's a Saturday and Boyd had stayed the night, curled up in the spare bedroom. He would have stayed with Isaac, but Allison and Scott had spent the night, too.

Maybe he would have tried to stay in Cora's room, but Erica and Lydia had piled in there and locked him out.

Derek's kind of glad about that, even though he genuinely trusts Boyd's intentions. It helps that he's never even smelled Boyd's arousal, whereas Scott, Stiles, and Isaac have it seeping out of them _constantly_. At least Boyd seems interested in other things.

Boyd makes no move to actually enter the room, so Derek rolls over and throws the blanket back. Sometimes his betas get like this, overwhelmed with the need to be near their alpha, but so unsure of him that they can't bring themselves to ask for it. "Come on," Derek mutters when Boyd still doesn't cross the room.

Finally, he approaches the bed and sets down the coffee. It had probably been difficult for Boyd, being the only one sleeping alone. There are times, Derek knows, that Boyd feels like an outsider. It's always frustrating, because Boyd joined the pack to make friends.

Derek tugs Boyd closer, until the boy's head is tucked under his chin. "Sleep okay?" he mumbles, rubbing his hand loosely over Boyd's shoulder.

"Mmm-hmm," he agrees, curling an arm around Derek.

"Good," Derek mumbles. There were days like this for Derek, too, back when it was just him and Laura. Then he only found comfort when he could cuddle up in her lap or give her piggy back rides through the closest parks. So he'd hold off because he felt like he didn't _deserve_ the comfort.

The draw to pack is different now. There's more of them, for one thing. Cora and Isaac live with him, and Cora, at least, expects him to touch her casually and doesn't mind reciprocating. The others hold off until they feel too uncomfortable _not_ being close to him.

He's still unapproachable, for the most part. He's trying to change that. It's still hard.

And it's easy to offer them what they need. It's for them, not him. He can do that.

He can do this.

He thinks an outsider would look on the position he and Boyd are in as something more and less than it is. There's a tendency to elevate romantic and sexual love above all other types of love. He doesn't feel anything like that for Boyd. They aren't brothers and Boyd isn't his son, but the love feels familial, friendly, _warm_.

That's what really matters, isn't it?

* * *

**May**

The day before the full moon, Derek runs into the wendigo. Literally, that is. He's running through the preserve, half-shifted, trying to burn off excess energy. It's always like this before the full moon. Like something is trying to claw out of his skin. Sometimes his morning workout is enough to take the edge off. Not today.

Wendigos smell like the forests they inhabit, which means he's caught off guard when the horned creature swipes at his side and attempts to carry him off.

He's not sure how he'd react to surviving so much just to get killed by a wendigo, especially now that things are _finally_ working out for him. So he cuts back, clawing viciously any where he can reach. You have to shoot a wendigo to kill it, with a silver bullet.

He doesn't have any of those on hand, unfortunately. But if he can incapacitate it, he might be able to get assistance from Argent.

Probably not, actually.

Escaping it is.

The wendigo finally lets go of him, which is long enough for him to scramble away and run in the direction of the old Hale house. The Argents had set up shop there, and their might be a spare bullet lying around.

(There won't be. But there _is_ cell service. And Scott has stolen bullets from hunters before.)

He makes it just barely, slamming the red-but-clawed door behind him. The wendigo scrapes against it as Derek takes the stairs, four steps at a time. He dials as he runs, hands shaking. "Scott, _pick up_."

Stiles answers the phone instead. "Hey, Scott can't talk right now. What's up?"

"Wendigo. I'm stuck at my house, can you—"

"Yeah, of course, what do you need?"

"Silver bullet, as soon as possible. I can hold him off, but—"

Stiles has already hung up, though, and Derek is talking to nothing.

He decides to take comfort in the idea that Stiles is on his way to save him _once again_.

And then—_crap_. What if he goes to the house he lives in, the one he actually calls, "my house?" Or, you know, the one he _should_ call "my house," but apparently doesn't. He dials Stiles' phone this time.

Stiles picks up on the third ring. "What, man, I'm driving! I'm not supposed to—"

"My old house, Stiles, not—"

"Okay, okay, got it—"

The wendigo is inside.

Derek hangs up without saying a word, silently tucking the phone into his back pocket. This always happens, though, doesn't it? He tries to remember that a year ago he wouldn't have called Scott (in fact he can't figure out _why_ he called Scott now, except that when he thinks of Scott he still thinks of family, still thinks of _brotherhood_). He might have called Boyd or Erica, maybe even Isaac. Someone who would use blunt force to knock the wendigo away, only to have Scott and Stiles show up having outsmarted them, already knowing how to deal with the problem.

Derek knew there was a kanima. He didn't know what to do but kill it. But Stiles brought Lydia and Lydia brought Jackson back.

He can let someone else do the heavy lifting, even if he's proud that this time, this time, he knows how to solve the problem. This time, he knew who to call.

Sort of.

Downstairs, the wendigo moves quietly from room to room. It's possible he hasn't eaten in a while, given that he _should_ be able to smell Derek's location. Perhaps the smell of death and Derek have mixed too much in this house, and right now, Derek is invisible.

His phone vibrates and he freezes. _He _can hear it of course; the question is whether the wendigo heard it. He tugs the phone out of his pocket, _hoping_ it's something important.

It's a text from Stiles—"Got pulled over for speeding; told Allison. She'll be there soon."

Getting rescued by Allison sounds awful.

But he'll take what he can get.

There's a creak on the stairs, and Derek knows the jig is up. He does his best to melt into the meager shadows of his home. It's a husk of what it used to be, like the dead skin a snake leaves behind. The light filters in from outside and there aren't many shadows to hide in. There's something beautiful about that, but he doesn't have time to reflect on that.

The wendigo enters the room, eyes falling on him immediately. It grins at him, teeth an awful shade of black that makes him tense. (He thinks of black blood, of bullet holes and the taste of Gerard.)

He falls into a crouch. He can survive until Allison gets here.

He can survive anything.

(Some days that's a blessing, and others a curse. Today he'll count it as a blessing.)

The wendigo laughs, lunges.

Derek leaps before it can reach him. With his betas, he'll wait for them to strike first, but this isn't a training exercise—it's real life and Derek only has one chance. He ducks underneath the swinging arms, clawing at its legs. He finds purchase behind its left knee and yanks as hard as possible.

There's a brittle broken sound that gives him a flicker of hope, but then the wendigo is grabbing him by his ankle and throwing him across the room.

He slides across the floor and his legs swing over the edge of the house, dangling. He's never regretted another arena to fight in more than this. His claws dig into the floor, hoping the wood hasn't rotted too much here. It works long enough for him to scamper over the edge.

Of course it's not over—it grabs him again; tosses him across the room again. This time he breaks through a wall, landing in Laura's old bedroom. He doesn't linger on the thought, just breaking through the wall again, rushing the wendigo as quickly as possible. If he can attack first, he can—

It knocks him back with one blow to his stomach and he falls through a hole in the floor.

Downstairs, he groans.

The door opens as the wendigo drops through the ceiling and a single shot rings out.

For a long moment, he can't hear anything—did Allison fire the gun right over his head? What's that ringing? Why does everything _hurt_?

"Derek?"

He can hear again. He blinks, aware suddenly of the weight pinning him down. The wendigo's teeth scrape against his shoulder as he shoves it off. He looks over at Allison, who's holding a gun loosely, hair tousled and eyes wide. "Thanks," he says. Means it.

She tries to smile, maybe, but only the right side of her mouth quirks up. "Yeah. Need a ride?"

"Sure," he says, swallowing as he pushes the rest of the wendigo off of him. "But, uh. Do you have a lighter? We should—" He gestures at the corpse.

"Um, no, I don't really like fire," Allison says, stepping closer to him. Almost casually she touches his arm. "You okay? I can call Stiles. He usually...has everything."

He wonders if she hates fire because of Kate and feels bad. She shouldn't. "He'll probably be here soon, anyway," he points out, and sure enough, he can hear the Jeep arriving outside. "You can go on home if you want. We'll take care of it."

She does smile then, patting his arm before turning and walking away. The gun smacks against her thigh a couple times before she gets outside. "Hey Stiles," he hears her say. "Got a light?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Stiles says, and then he's bursting into the house, digging into his pocket. "You need fire?"

"Looks like it," Derek says, watching him cross the room.

He smiles wryly. "You're lucky to have me, admit it!"

"Feeling luckier about Allison, honestly," he replies drily.

"Aw, shucks. Your praise means the world to me."

"Of course it does," he sighs. "The lighter?"

"Um, dude, shouldn't we do this somewhere not made of wood?"

Derek sighs. "Sure, fine, whatever." It's easy enough to pick up the wendigo now that it's not alive to struggle, so he drags it down to the basement, Stiles following him silently. That's almost something he wants to comment on, only he's seen Stiles darken into silence before. Usually it means he's gone somewhere bad in his head.

He thinks this is about him, though, so he's not going to ask. He has no interest in Stiles offering platitudes about Derek and fire.

They all have their issues with fire...unfortunately, it's _useful_. So he deals, because he has to.

Derek isn't...he _can't be_...afraid. Not when everyone else's lives are at stake.

Not when his is at stake.

So they burn the wendigo and Derek watches the flames. He makes sure they're contained, and that the entire body burns.

Stiles touches his arm, unconsciously resting his fingers at the same spot Allison did, only his fingers curl around his bicep, tight, anchoring.

He can't look at him. But he doesn't pull away, and he thinks Stiles understands the silent gratitude, anyway.

* * *

**June**

Erica basically lives in the pool after school ends, showing up early in the morning to scoop bugs and leaves out of the pool, diving in wearing that same green swimsuit. She swims laps, floats, and stretches out on the deck chairs.

Sometimes Cora joins her, diving into the pool completely nude and unconcerned with anyone seeing her. To be fair, there's a privacy fence surrounding the backyard, but there's also huge windows overlooking the pool, and honestly, Derek never wanted to see that much of his sister.

"Please buy a swimsuit," he says the fifth time he catches sight of her breasts.

"But I _like_ swimming naked," she whines. Still, she buys a white bikini the next day, winking at him when she walks through the living room in it.

Really, he just counts his blessings. Boyd never was around while she was swimming nude, and even though the boy has never expressed interest in sex, he's not sure how he would have reacted to it.

"You promised me a pool party," Erica reminded him one day, while she dripped water and chlorine in his kitchen. She has a towel wrapped loosely around her hips, but her hair is stringy and dark with water.

He sighs. "So plan one?"

"Can I invite Scott's pack?" she wonders, tilting her head curiously.

"Okay," he says, returning his attention to the stove. He wants to have grilled cheese today, like he and Laura used to eat, back before the fire. It won't be exactly the same, because the store had been out of Texas Toast, as though regular white bread was even worth purchasing.

"Even the twins?" she asks, stepping next to him and raising an eyebrow.

"Up to you," he says, shrugging. It's easy to push the things that have hurt him away, but smarter to get over it. He's trying. Erica should try, too, but it has to be on her terms.

She hums. "Okay. Can I have one, too?" She points at the skillet and gives him a hopeful smile.

"Yeah, okay," he says, smiling back despite himself. "I'll bring it out to you."

"Thanks," she says. She starts to leave, going as far as the living room. But she pauses at the back door, and says, "Stiles thinks you like me."

"I do, I guess," he says, shrugging. She can't see him, of course, but he's used to talking like this, conversing like they're close to each other. He likes being a werewolf.

"No," she says, and he can hear the smile on her face. "I mean he thinks you _like_ me."

"Well, not like _that_," he admits. It might be easier if he liked Erica, but she doesn't like him, not like that, and he wouldn't force it on either of them. Anyway, she's younger than Stiles, so it's not easier at all. "No offense."

"I'm not offended," she says. "But maybe you should talk to him about it?"

"He's underage," he says dismissively.

"Not for long," is all she says before going back outside and diving into the pool, where Cora and Boyd are already lounging.

And he knows it's true, that he could tell Stiles the truth now and wait a couple months for his eighteenth birthday, that he could have whatever he wants _now_ if he wanted. Stiles cares about him as much as he cares about Stiles.

And that's why he can't say anything, not yet. It's...he needs to be old enough, a consenting adult.

Laura would have killed him for trying anything different.

Laura would have killed him for a lot of things, actually.

But he'll respect this.

* * *

**July**

"I'm on to you," Erica drawls from the edge of the pool, where she's resting her chin on her arms.

"What's that?" Derek wonders, looking up from the book he's reading. It's something Boyd recommended—_The Maze Runner_—and he's actually enjoying it quite a bit. He's not really surprised, of course. Boyd has excellent taste.

"I have never seen you swim," she announces.

"You don't swim?" Scott wonders, clamoring out of the pool. "Why?"

"Scott, you're in my light," Lydia snaps. She's sprawled in the deck chair next to Derek, apparently trying to tan. It might work if Aiden wasn't constantly rubbing sunscreen into her skin. Every time she glares at him, he mutters that he can smell her skin start to burn. She lets it go every time.

The dynamic of their relationship would be weirder if he didn't know Lydia as well as he did. She might be dating an alpha werewolf and willing to claim Scott as her own alpha, but she's not the beta in any sense. Aiden probably thinks about protecting her and making her life easier constantly.

"Derek," Erica whines. "You're at a _pool party_. You _have_ to swim."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to," Stiles says, swimming over to Erica. "Last time we were in a pool together you were knocked out and I had to hold him up for two hours. Terrible memories."

It's not true, of course. Derek just usually has better things to do.

She just rolls her eyes. "Unacceptable. Come on, Der, _please_? For me?" When he makes no move to get into the pool, she pouts. "For Stiles?"

"Whoa, hey, Stiles is firmly in the camp of letting Derek do whatever the hell he wants," Stiles says quickly, pushing away from the wall. "People gotta move at their own pace."

"That's the most considerate thing you've ever said," Erica says, and then swims after him to forcibly dunk him under the water.

He comes up sputtering and the two of them instigate a splash war that has Allison laughing and climbing up to sit on Isaac's shoulders. "We should play chicken, yeah?"

So Stiles scrambles up to sit on Erica's shoulders, and the two humans grab at each other, laughing as they try to push and pull each other away. Allison wins, of course, because she's the strongest human Derek has ever met. Physically, anyway. He thinks Stiles has a special kind of strength, emotionally speaking.

Stiles would claim it was all sarcasm, of course. Derek can respect that.

In the corner of the pool, Cora kisses Boyd and whispers about how careful Erica is with the chlorine levels. She thinks it's cute that Erica can dedicate herself to something so thoroughly. Boyd thinks it's cute that Cora doesn't acknowledge the same of herself.

Scott joins the fray of the ex-chicken game, helping Isaac and Allison hold Stiles still while Erica ruthlessly tickles him, digging her fingers into his ribs as he shrieks with laughter and tries to get away. His hair is flattened over his forehead, and Derek just _wants_.

"Hey, if you're just going to watch them, can I have this chair?" Danny asks, coming to stand in front of him. "Ethan is afraid of the water or something and won't let me go near it.

"Uh, sure," Derek says, vacating the chair. He sets the book on the edge of the table furthest from the pool, and goes to sit at the edge. He dangles his feet into the water, just watching the teens laughing and splashing each other.

Stiles manages to get Scott in a headlock, pushing his head underwater and laughing. Of course Scott lets him, because Stiles is always going to be his Batman.

"Derek is smiling," Allison shouts, laughter punctuating every word as Isaac and Erica swim toward him menacingly.

He doesn't stop them from pulling him into the pool, just falling forward. He feels light, like this is what pack is supposed to be. It's nice, being here.

When he resurfaces, Scott is kissing Allison and Stiles is hitting them with a pool noodle, cackling madly. He meets Derek's eyes in between the flogging, and his face softens briefly.

Derek counts it as...something.

Later, Boyd grills burgers and hot dogs, and Stiles produces Cheetos and celery sticks seemingly from no where. Scott had been in charge of the buns, but Isaac was the one who actually brought them, he admits with a blush. Allison laughs about it and kisses both of their cheeks, saying fondly, "My boys."

It's easy. It's right.

So when Stiles steals the food off of his plate, Derek doesn't complain or retaliate, he just offers a smile.

There's a flutter in his stomach when Stiles smiles back, and he thinks—yeah, this is right.

"My birthday is in October," Stiles whispers, when every one else is back in the pool, splashing and yelling.

Derek gives him a lop-sided grin. "I guess I better figure out a really good present."

Stiles grins and pecks his cheek. "Swim?"

"Okay."

"I'm not helping you this time. You get to tread your own water," he insists.

Just for that, Derek tosses him into the pool, jumping in after him.

They come up for air laughing.

* * *

**A/N**: I finished the first part of what will either be the second chapter or the sequel to this and realized I had never posted the first part. Whoops. I actually haven't decided if I want to make this a two-shot or post the two separately. This seems complete to me, but...this site doesn't make sequels easy to find. Maybe if I was on AO3 (which I should really get to, I know...)

Anyway, I think part 2 will be posted as the second chapter for this, at this point. I might even finish it today!


	2. Chapter 2

**Word Count**: 6141

**Pairing**: Sterek and Boyd/Cora, mostly, but Aidya and Scallisaac are mentioned

**Notes**: This was supposed to be brief! But then Stuff Kept Happening and it got nearly as long as part 1…oops.

* * *

**Summer**

Erica insists on having three more pool parties, but by the last one, it's just Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. Cora is grudgingly finishing up her GED because Derek got fed up with her Polyvore addiction and blocked the site until she finished.

So it's just the four of them hanging out in the pool, like it's been just the four of them from the…well, middle, maybe. Not quite the beginning, because then each of them would be all on their own.

Isaac is a little looser now than he was a year ago. He only flinches now when Derek surprises him and doesn't even twitch when someone touches him. It's better this way, better with Isaac living with him again, better with trust. It might have something to do with his relationship with Scott and Allison, but Derek would prefer to think he's just figured out how to be a good alpha by now.

Maybe Isaac agrees.

The important thing might just be that Derek hangs out with them, laughs with them, swims with them. He's trying to be even _more_ approachable, as though through sheer force of will he can make his betas his...friends. His family.

Erica is giggling as she winds her arms around Boyd's neck and hooks her legs around his waist. "Carry me," she says, and digs her chin into his neck.

He laughs and jerks, trying to dislodge her half-heartedly. "Stop it," he commands her, and when she tightens her grip on him, he tickles her, fingers dancing over her calves.

They laugh together more than with any one else. It's not like Erica is humorless or subdued. It's not like Boyd doesn't grin at the jokes other people tell. But there's a bond between them that Derek can never seek to replicate. They've been close friends since the beginning (or maybe the middle is still more appropriate) and he suspects nothing will change that. Not Boyd's budding relationship with Cora or Isaac carefully instating himself as Erica's new best friend.

Erica slips away from Boyd after a few minutes full of tickling each other and wiggling. She's been working on how long she can stay underwater, and she uses it now to stealthily sneak across the pool to where Isaac is idly floating on a pink plastic float Scott had brought over at the last party.

Boyd is still smiling as he swims over to where Derek is sitting at the edge of the pool, just his feet wet. "She's gonna make you get in," he points out.

He shrugs, smiling. "I think she likes forcing it, to be honest."

"Yeah. She's kind of an alpha all on her own, huh?" Boyd smiles fondly as Erica pops out of the water next to Isaac and flips his float all in one move.

"Something like that," Derek agrees.

Isaac comes out of the water sputtering and flailing. He jumps over the float trying to grab Erica, but she dives and swims away quickly. He chases after her, arms extended and claws out.

Erica resurfaces at the other end of the pool and shrieks, "Don't get blood in the pool! That's gross!" She scrambles out of the pool while Isaac falls even further into the shift. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" she shouts, but she's laughing as she runs across the deck and down the stairs, around the backyard.

Boyd pulls himself out of the water, too, but he just sits next to Derek, idly kicking his feet through the water. "Do you ever wish you'd picked different people?" he wonders. It's surprising and not all at once—Boyd is quiet a lot of the time, but he thinks things through extremely carefully. When he does ask questions, he asks the ones that don't let people deflect. He asks the questions that matter.

Derek wishes he could give the _answers_ that matter, but he's not really sure how. There's still a huge part of him that hesitates to give all the information, because as long as he still knows the most, his betas (and Scott's pack) will keep coming back. But Boyd deserves this much, at least. "I used to," he says, shrugging. He doesn't look at Boyd, choosing instead to watch Erica and Isaac wrestling across the lawn. "But I don't now. I don't want any one else."

"What about Stiles?"

"Oh, definitely not," he says, and now he grins at Boyd. "Stiles won't ever be my beta. And I'm happier about that than anything else."

"Hmm," he agrees, nudging Derek with his shoulder. He's smiling, too, though it's still a little hesitant. "And Scott?" Maybe he's got a list in his head, people he thinks Derek likes more than him.

(The truth is that there's not more or less in love, it's just...different types of love. He loves Isaac like...almost a son. And Erica is something like a friend. Scott is like an obnoxious little brother and Boyd...Boyd is something else.)

He looks over at his beta and smiles a little. He can be honest about _this_ at least. "I used to. But I think this is the best way it could turn out. It's better when we're sharing authority instead of forcing it on one another."

"You're smarter than you used to be," Boyd offers. He looks more relaxed now, like Derek reaffirmed his place, even though he _hasn't_. He didn't do it well enough and—

"I would never want to replace you with Scott, though, you know that. Right?" he says. He needs him to understand this much at least.

"You needed three," Boyd says, looking away again. "Back then. What if Scott had changed his mind? Would you have come to the ice rink anyway?"

"I don't know," Derek says honestly. It's second nature to wrap an arm around Boyd and rest his hand on his shoulder, to clasp tightly, to just be _there_. "But it's like you said. I'm smarter now. Even if Scott showed up now and gave up being an alpha just to be my beta, he'd never replace _you_. He couldn't."

Boyd doesn't answer, but Derek's never sure if that's because he doesn't have one or if it's thanks to Erica jogging up behind them and shoving both of them into the pool at the same time. "No feelings!" she crows. "This is pool party time!" She cannonballs into the pool after them.

* * *

**Fall**

Derek gets a job at the sheriff's office because werewolves might actually eat him out of the trust fund his mother had set up. Of course he still has the monthly life insurance payments coming in, but even that isn't enough when Scott's pack abruptly decides that his house is the place to _be_.

The first time he comes home from work to see Allison and Lydia sitting on his couch and discussing the newest Ryan Gosling movie and how annoyed they were at the lack of female characters, he feels like he's stepped into an alternate dimension. They aren't the only people in the house of course—Cora and Erica are in Cora's bedroom, each of them silently messing around on their laptops.

Still, he doesn't know what to do. Lydia and Allison are the members of Scott's pack that he cares for the absolute least—well, aside from the twins.

In the end, he just walks by them and goes to his bedroom to change.

After that, everyone spends at least one afternoon a week at his house. It's their senior year of high school, aside from Cora, who has finished her GED, and Erica, who was still a junior after missing so much school the previous year. They all seem to think of Derek's house as a safe place, and he can't begrudge them that.

So Scott organizes movie nights for _his _pack at Derek's house, Stiles and Lydia start studying together on his couch, Danny and the twins start running together around his neighborhood, and Derek says nothing.

Well, he says nothing until Lydia and Allison try to befriend Cora and take her away from Erica. It's not like he'd have a problem with the four girls being friends, but Lydia still seems to think of Erica as scum beneath her, and Allison apparently can't get over the time Erica flirted with Scott.

The third time they drag Cora away from Erica, leaving the blonde frowning in the living room, Derek puts his foot down.

Sort of.

When the three girls get back, Cora immediately drifts away from the pair, trying to sit down next to Erica on the couch. Across the room, Lydia plants her hands firmly on her hips and just says, "_Cora_."

Cora stiffens and turns to look at the redhead. "What?" she whines. "I thought we were done?"

"You have to try everything on. To show Derek," Lydia says, rolling her eyes.

"But I don't _want _to," she protests weakly. She's already moving toward the two girls. Allison is hiding a giggle behind her hand, looking somewhat embarrassed but fond of Lydia's antics.

"No," Derek says, sighing. "All of you. Couch, now."

"_Excuse me_?" Lydia says, like she can't believe someone had the gall to order her around.

Derek gives her his best impression of Laura's "Did I stutter?" face. Stiles calls it his "bitchface," but Cora recognizes what he's doing and giggles every time. Even now, as she's cuddling up to Erica, she's hiding a smirk in Erica's shoulder. "It's my house," he reminds Lydia. "So sit down or leave."

Lydia huffs, but takes a seat on the other end of the couch with a sigh. "What is it, oh mighty alpha?"

Allison sits next to her comfortably, smiling like nothing bothers her.

"Stop forcing Cora to do things," he says, and holds up a hand when Lydia starts to speak. "She's her own person. If she wants to hang out with Erica at the house instead of doing things with you two, she can. If she wants to cuddle with Boyd instead of helping you pick out a new dog outfit, she can."

Lydia scoffs. "Please. I'm not forcing her to do anything. I might be forceful, but really, she can say 'no' any time."

"She just did," Derek says disbelievingly. "And you kept bothering her until she started to do what you wanted."

"Hmph," Lydia replies, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "_Fine_. I'll stop 'forcing—'" she draws air quotes around the word—"Cora to do things with me."

"Good," Derek says. "I'm not trying to boss you around, but when I see members of my pack unhappy, I have to take care of them. You understand, right?"

"Yep, sure," Lydia says, rolling her eyes. "Can I go now?"

He waves a hand at her.

Later, Lydia corners him in the kitchen. "Look, I know you're worried about Erica having female friends. You weren't worried about Cora at all, were you?"

"No, I was," he says. This is why he doesn't get along with Lydia. She's too discerning and too controlling. He respects her, really. He just wishes she'd only come around as often as, say, Scott. Scott, who would argue with him all day if he could. Lydia is the same, and so Derek _really_ doesn't want to deal with it.

"I get it," she says, waving a hand at him. "I mean, really, Erica has had a different social development. She doesn't really have friends outside of the pack, and Cora is the only one who's a girl. She'll always have Isaac, but Isaac doesn't paint her nails or talk about cute actors with her. Whatever."

He frowns. He doesn't know what Cora and Erica do, but he has a feeling there's more to it than that.

"The only reason I'm being belligerent is because you didn't take me aside privately," she continues.

"There's no privacy in a house of werewolves," he points out, but he can understand where she's coming from. "Sorry."

"_Whatever_. I'm willing to try to include Erica. She has a certain..._je ne sais quoi_. I can work with it. I probably haven't been as..._polite_ as I could have to her. And I think I can get Allison to get over the whole flirt-with-Scott thing."

"Really?" He raises his eyebrows. Of course his ideal best case scenario (Lydia manages to share Cora with Erica) was nothing compared to what Lydia was actually determined to do. He had a feeling it was _because_ no one expected much of Lydia that she constantly pulled out all the stops.

"I befriended _Stiles_ didn't I?" she says, quirking a single eyebrow. "Besides, someone told me she had a crush on Jackson, so she has to have _some_ taste."

"This isn't going to end up like _Mean Girls_ is it?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at her. Laura had loved that movie and he'd watched it more than he'd care to admit. If Lydia was going to steal Jackson out from under Erica's nose, a la Regina George and Aaron Samuels, he'd...do something. He wasn't sure what, because Lydia was actively terrifying, but something. (Never mind that Jackson was in London. Anything Lydia put her mind to was possible.)

"As charming as it is that you think Erica is naive enough to warrant a casting as Cady Heron, no," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm trying to get on your good side, because I'd like to host Stiles' 18th birthday party here."

He squinted at her, listening carefully for lies. He finds none, but it's still Lydia Martin. Still, her request is innocuous enough, and if her attempt to befriend Erica goes poorly, Erica will _definitely _let him know. Loudly. "Fine. When do you want to do that?"

"Next Saturday," she says. "His birthday is on a Wednesday, but parties shouldn't be in the middle of the week. Plus I don't really want to interrupt anything you might have planned." At this, she gives him a significant look.

He rolls his eyes. He doesn't really have anything planned, mostly because he's not a planner. He's more of a...think-on-his-feet-er. "Fine. How many people are you wanting to invite?"

"Just the two packs. I figure you probably don't want unfamiliar people in your territory and all." She shrugs, like being thoughtful and courteous is something she does often. "Plus Stiles doesn't really like many people outside of us."

"That's fine. I assume you can let yourself in," he says. Everyone in _both_ packs knows where the spare keys are hidden.

In response she pats his chest, right over his heart. "Of course. And I should warn you—if you're planning on just giving yourself to Stiles as a gift...well. He'll probably be happy about it, but I won't be. Stiles gives...insane presents. Trust me. I know." She gives him a significant look and tosses her hair. "You better get him an actual present, or I will gut you and paint the living room with your entrails."

"That's disgusting," he says, impressed. "Did you get that from Cora?"

She smiles then, and shrugs. "I like Cora. But no, that one's all me." Then she sashays out of the kitchen, and calls out, "Allison, stop making out with Isaac. I need to go home. It's a school night."

Derek is left feeling like he's been run over by a monster truck, or a steam roller. He's been steamrolled. Flattened. All men should quake in Lydia Martin's face.

But seriously, she was worried about nothing. For all that he's not a planner, he totally has Stiles gift picked out. He's had it for months. He should probably be getting Stiles something meaningful, but...well...he'd been unable to help himself. The kid (don't call him that; it makes it worse) always talked about wanting to be Batman... So he'd bought the Batman costume when he'd seen it. No big deal. He'd like it regardless of his feelings on the the Dark Knight Rises.

* * *

**Fall 2.0**

"That's adorable," Lydia announces. She's standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed.

"Why are you here this early?" Derek asks, choosing not to respond. Laura had always done the same thing. He knew what he looked like early in the morning. Before breakfast it was better not to get into snark-offs.

"We're setting up," she says, turning her back on him. "A little higher, sweetie."

And of course Aiden is here, too, hanging blue streamers from Derek's living room ceiling.

Really, why does he bother?

Right. "Well, I'm going to eat now. I have work in an hour, but I trust you not to do anything too drastic to my house. Please don't break that trust," he pleads.

She rolls her eyes. "Please, what kind of hostess do you think I am? Every one knows you give utmost respect to the venue."

"Thanks," he says. "I think."

"Sure thing," Lydia says, and the smile she flashes is dangerous. "By the way, Erica wants to go to Disneyland for her birthday. It's in March, so you have some time to figure that out."

"Why am I in charge of that?" he wonders. He thought birthdays were Lydia's domain.

"Oh, you two should go alone!" she says, smiling firmly. "I know she's your favorite and then she can do whatever she wants without being weighed down by the rest of us."

"She's not my favorite," he says, nonplussed. He loves all of his pack equally (now that Peter is gone).

Lydia rolls her eyes, like she can't believe she has to put up with him. "Okay, fine. But you're her favorite. Well...maybe you should bring Cora, too."

"Why are you doing this?" he wonders.

"To the left," she instructs Aiden, before glancing back to him. "Because, like I said, I'm befriending her. I don't do anything halfway."

"That's true," Aiden says.

She reaches up to smack the back of his head. "Shut up."

Derek slips out of the room before he can make any more demands of him. In the kitchen he sticks a note on the fridge to remind himself to look for Disneyland tickets after work.

When he leaves for work, Lydia has moved on from streamers to hanging a banner, and has managed to enlist Isaac's help in keeping it straight. "Higher!" she's demanding as he sneaks out the front door.

As a new deputy, he's mostly in charge of watching out for traffic violations, but the sheriff seems to take vicious satisfaction in handing off his paperwork to Derek, so he does a lot of that, too. He has to wonder exactly what Stiles has told him about Derek (you know, besides the bit about being an alpha werewolf. He has to wonder if the sheriff blames him for Stiles' involvement, and figures he must not know his son very well if that's the case. As if anyone could tell Stiles what to do.)

Today, the sheriff gravely takes a seat next to Derek at his desk. "I hear you're hosting a party for Stiles this evening," he says.

"Well, I think Lydia is doing that, actually," he replies carefully. "But yes, it's at my house."

The sheriff pats his shoulder. "I reckon I can trust you to make sure there's no alcohol? Stiles doesn't hold it well at all."

"I'll do my best, sir, but you know how Lydia gets when she wants something," he hedges. He'd actually prefer the alcohol to be left at home. He's never gotten any real enjoyment out of it, given that he can't get drunk. Mostly, it burns when it goes down and smells terrible on humans.

Sheriff Stinilinski concedes this point, but clasps his shoulder firmly. "I know you'll watch out for him, though. I got nothing to be worried about."

Derek feels the tips of his ears turn red. He grunts out a "Yes," and hopes it's enough to allay his fears, and not too much to reveal exactly what he feels for Stiles.

The sheriff snorts. "Right. Go easy on him tonight."

Derek splutters. Why does everyone assume that something is going to happen so quickly? They haven't even started dating! "Sir?" he chokes out.

But the sheriff has already walked away, leaving Derek feeling mortified.

Seriously, he hates this town.

Around lunch time, Erica texts him. "Can you take me and Boyd to the mall? We need to get a present for Stiles. Cora won't tell me where you hid the keys to the Camaro. :("

"That's because she doesn't know either," he texts back. In fact, he'd started hiding them because Cora was determined to teach herself to drive. He wasn't against teaching her; not at all. He just didn't want her to crash Laura's car. "I'll take you if you guys can meet me here."

"Sure. We'll run," Erica replies.

They're waiting for him by the Toyota when he walks out of the station. "Why are you two so late on this?" he asks as he unlocks the door.

"I'm a firm believer in buying gifts late. You always find the best things at the last minute," Erica says.

"I just didn't feel like going," Boyd says.

"Where're Cora and Isaac?"

"Didn't want to come," Erica sighs. She clammers into the first seat before Boyd can and immediately starts fiddling with the radio. "Can we listen to Beyonce?"

Derek grunts. He will never admit to enjoying any kind of music, given that the pack will hold it over his head forever. As it is, he loves Beyonce. Probably everyone loves Beyonce, but he's sure everyone would treat it as some kind of revelatory insight to his character.

She doesn't seem to care about his response, anyway, producing the iPod Derek had given her for her birthday last year, and plugging it into his radio. "I think...Halo is a good start. Yeah? Pretend it's about you and Stiles."

Now he did glare at her.

In the back seat, Boyd snickered.

"And why didn't you just run to the mall?" he asks when they arrive. "Then you could have longer to look."

Erica gives him a disbelieving look and Boyd says, "We wanted to hang out with you, idiot." Which is sweet, even if they delivered the news in the rudest way possible.

So he just jostles them as they walk toward the mall entrance. They'll know he means "Thank you."

* * *

**Fall 3.0**

At Stiles' birthday, Derek sneaks all of the alcohol out of the room and replaces it with soda. He locks it up in his bedroom, in one of the empty closets. He'll bring it out some other time.

Lydia gives him a disgusted look but doesn't ask him to bring it back out. Instead, she turns the volume up on the music, and makes Aiden dance to a song about "loosening up buttons" with her.

"No beer?" Erica wonders, coming to sit next to him. She'd danced with Stiles for a while before getting bored and eating another cupcake (inexplicably, Lydia had provided nearly three hundred cupcakes.)

"Nope," he says, shrugging. "The sheriff might have threatened me."

She nods. "No worries. No real point in it, right? Stiles, Lydia, and Allison would be the only ones having fun with it."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"And I figure," she continues, resting a hand on his knee. "You probably want him sober when you finally kiss him."

He looks over at her, only vaguely annoyed. She's been the first to insinuate anything less than a blowjob...which made her his favorite. For tonight. He's pretty much the opposite of ready for anything resembling sex. He knows Stiles really well, but...well. Having sex really early in the relationship hadn't really worked out in the past. "Yeah," he says, feeling a smile curve over his face. "Is it going to bother you?"

"What?" she wonders, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Being the only single one?"

"Yeah," he says, taking the hand resting on his knee and twining their fingers.

"No," she says, smiling and kissing his cheek. "Not more than usual. I mean, it won't be long, right? I'm super hot. And everyone in the pack seems to have preternatural good luck in relationships."

"What do you mean?" he asks, smiling warmly. He feels lucky with Stiles, even if it's unofficial as of yet, but he gets a feeling that's not what she meant.

"I mean Isaac managed to get in a polyamorous relationship and Boyd is asexual but happily dating your sister. Not a lot of people would understand those kinds of things. Allison, Scott, and Cora are kind of perfect," she muses. She shifts until she's leaning against him more comfortably. "And Stiles is going to be really good for you. I know everything that happened with Ms. Blake was hard, and you were sad before then. Love's been rough on you, right? At least we can count on Stiles to be...well, Stiles."

He laughs. "That's true."

"So it won't be too long before my perfect boy arrives," she says, smiling at him. "And I'll be fine crushing on actors until then."

He ruffles her hair. "You're all right."

"Cut that out," she whines, fixing her hair and leaning away from him. "Jeez, here I am being all nice to you and you screw up my hair."

He just grins at her.

She huffs. "Fine. I'm done. Stiles!"

Stiles looks over immediately, taking in the sight of Erica pouting with her arms crossed and Derek looking smugly amused and utterly relaxed. He walks over with an easy smile. "Is it already time?" he says, looking at Derek calmly.

Derek shrugs and nods. "Wanna go outside?"

They do, sitting in the deck chairs and sharing the three cupcakes Derek grabbed on the way outside. It's quiet and comfortable, even when Stiles tries to wind their legs together.

"Should we talk about it?" he asks, stealing the last chunk of cupcake. His teeth are blue from the icing, but he still looks delectable. And legal. That's nice.

"Probably," Derek says.

"Well, I like you even when you annoy me. Especially then," Stiles replies decisively.

"That's my line," he protests, but he leans over to wipe a crumb off of Stiles' mouth.

"I said it first."

"Well, it's still true for me."

"Fine."

"Fine," Derek mimics.

Stiles giggles, then, and slides closer. "Can I kiss you?"

"If you want."

"I do."

"Okay."

"Okay." But he hesitates, just staring at Derek's eyes. He starts to chew on his lip, but stops after a second. "This seems too easy."

Derek shrugs. "Did you want more angst? I feel like there's been nearly two years' worth of that already."

"That's true," he agrees.

So leaning forward to kiss Stiles is easy, soft. Their noses bump a few times, which makes them laugh softly when they part and try again, but eventually, Derek gets a hand around the back of Stiles' neck and holds him still, at the right angle, so he can slot their lips together and comfortably fit his nose next to his. It works. He feels...good.

"Happy birthday," he murmurs when they part.

Stiles smiles, eyes still shut. "Yeah."

* * *

**Winter**

Everyone starts to scramble in putting their college applications together. Stiles and Scott work together at the dining room table, apparently refusing to attend school without one another. They work through the applications in tandem until they've filled out seven each and sent them all away. They high five after that, and bring an old PlayStation 2 over to Derek's house, and spend the entire winter break trying to beat each other at some old snowboarding game—SSX Tricky?—and gorging on junk food.

Derek can't really say he minds, since it means that Stiles is usually there when he gets home from work, demanding cuddles and hot chocolate.

Well. Who is he to deny his boyfriend small pleasures?

Lydia and Erica are the only ones apparently unconcerned with the college rush. Lydia has had everything sorted out since September, apparently, and Erica still has another year of high school. But even Lydia starts to worry about Aiden, and starts fussing at him to finish up with his applications.

One day, he hears Erica tackle Cora in the bedroom they basically share. "So did you pick?"

"No," Cora answers. She's probably aware of Derek listening in, but she's a born wolf and unlikely to let it bother her. "I still don't even want to _go_."

Derek knows about her hesitance, understands it, even. He never went to college, and he has a great job, even if the Sheriff uses it to terrorize him into "treating Stiles right," as though Derek would ever do anything else. And Cora's never been good at focusing in class. She's different than Stiles, who likes learning about stuff so much that he forces himself to hyper focus on it. (This Derek knows, given that he was subjected to the entire history of both male and female circumcision, why one was acceptable and the other not, and whether or not, should they adopt kids one day, Stiles wanted to get him circumcised. He hadn't been able to pick, and Derek had suggested adopting a daughter instead. Stiles had kissed him in response.)

"So don't," Erica says, like this solves everything. "Take a gap year. Get a job as, I don't know, a florist."

"Nah," Cora sighs. "But I did turn in an application at J. Crew."

"Oh, man, you're gonna end up shopping for _Lydia_," Erica giggles.

"Well, she did teach me everything I know."

They're quiet for a while, and Derek returns his attention to the paperwork he's filling out. Then he hears a low whistle and a _"Damn_," from Erica. He returns his attention to the bedroom in time to hear Erica ask, "Does it feel weird to reblog pictures of Ryan Gosling when you have a boyfriend?"

"No," Cora replies. "It's not like I can't appreciate the human form."

"That makes sense," Erica agrees. "Plus Boyd has to be the chillest about that kind of stuff. He's good."

"He's kind of self-conscious about it, I think," Cora says. "He never actually told Derek about being ace, you know? I'm sure Derek picked up on it, at least a little. But he told me it wasn't something he really spread around. I guess people used to give him crap for it."

"That sucks. Boyd is really cool."

"Yeah, and I think that's why he doesn't mind that I still look at other guys. Mostly he tries to give me space. But I love him, you know? And no one looks better than him. You know, he kind of looks like that guy from Shark Night. Um, Sinqua Walls? Yeah."

"No way, show me!"

Derek _does _know about Boyd being asexual, and even if he hadn't before, Erica spilled the beans at Stiles' birthday party. It never seemed like a big deal to him, but he could understand why Boyd wouldn't talk about it, especially given his relationship with Cora. People are awful, most of the time, and even if he didn't get beat up or anything, people certainly would have told him he just hadn't met the right person yet, or that he just didn't know what sexual attraction felt like.

People are idiots, though.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Stiles mumbles, coming up behind Derek and winding his arms around his hips. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay. I needed to make some dinner anyway."

"Still. Do you need any help?" He rubbed his face over Derek's back, right in between his shoulder blades. Stiles might have a thing for tattoos. (Or maybe just a thing for Derek.)

"If you want."

They work in silence, Stiles peeling potatoes while Derek slices the chicken breasts into strips and then breads them.

Maybe Derek is different than the average person. He feels more like Boyd than like Isaac, though he wouldn't go so far as to say he's completely asexual. He's lost his breath looking at Stiles more frequently as of late. Sometimes Stiles will stretch, and his shirt will ride up, revealing a smattering of freckles and moles on the small of his back, or he'll lean back on the couch, exposing the long column of his neck...

Derek jumps when Stiles touches him. The chicken in his hands is nugget sized instead of strip, and the breading has spilled a little.

"I think that chicken is good, yeah? You okay?" his boyfriend asks, raising an eyebrows.

"I got distracted," he admits.

"By _what_?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, were you having _thoughts_ about me?" Stiles teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Definitely not."

"So...yes."

"Nope."

"I knew it."

"I will break your hand on this counter."

"Okay, okay, jeez." Stiles holds up his hands to prove harmless. They're covered in dirt from the potatoes.

Derek sighs and reaches out to grab the hands.

"Hey, no, I stopped, you can't—" His protest dies as Derek slots their fingers together and pulls him closer to him. "No, gross, your hands are covered in chicken guts."

Derek ignores him in favor of giving him three short pecks on the lips before kissing him softer and longer. He feels...warm. Full. There's something about kissing Stiles that makes everything in the world slot into place, like it's all the right color now, like Derek's not so bad, like everything _could be okay_. He pulls away, smiling at the vaguely glazed look on Stiles' face. "We have soap."

"Wha—Oh. Okay."

(After dinner, Stiles burrows in Derek's bed, shivering under all of the covers, while Derek reads a book and cards his hands through his hair. He'll sleep well tonight.)

* * *

**Spring**

"We're...going to Disneyland?" Erica whispers, staring at the ticket Derek is holding out with a look of pure disbelief.

"Yeah," he agrees.

She looks up at him again, eyes shining, before she bodily tackles him, apparently wanting to hug him with her entire body.

He looks over her shoulder at Lydia, who is smugly leaning into Aiden. "Thank you," he mouths.

She just winks.

* * *

**Summer (Again)**

"Derek, you _promised_," Stiles says. "Please?"

"I don't want to."

"But you said if I got tickets, you would do it."

"Look, I don't mind you going as Batman. I think it's great. That's why I bought you the costume. But I am _not_ _doing this_." Derek is adamant. Unflappable. There is no way he's backing down on this. (Unless Lydia Martin gets involved, which...well, he's hoping she won't.)

"Dereeeeek," he whines. "Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?"

He looks over at him, pouting and holding up the costume. "Why can't I just go as Wolverine? Wolverine is my favorite."

"Because you wouldn't be dressing any different than usual."

"I could wear the yellow outfit," he protests.

"You hate yellow."

That's true. "Not as much as I hate DC." Also true.

"But if you're Wolverine it won't make any sense to be with me."

"Nightwing and Batman weren't dating," he argues. "So that's a moot point."

"But they hung out."

"No."

"Yes."

"I am not dressing up as Nightwing."

Stiles pouts, attempting to recreate the patented Scott McCall Puppy Eyes.

"No." But he can feel his resolve waning. Stiles must have practiced with Scott for that face. "Please? I don't want to. I really, really, don't."

"Then why did you say you would?"

"I didn't think your dad would let you go." Honesty is important, probably. Even if it makes Derek look like a terrible person. Which...well, he still is, sometimes.

Okay, a lot of the time.

"Well, he wasn't going to," Stiles admitted. He smirks. "Until I told him about your promise. He wants pictures of you in costume."

Derek groans. Curse the sheriff and his unfortunate hold on Derek's life. "Fine. Fine. A deal is a deal. But I hate you and I'm not kissing you for a month."

"Sure," Stiles says, obviously unconcerned. Probably because he knows Derek likes kissing him far too much to actually hold off on it.

Derek tries on the costume to discover that it does, in fact, fit. They stand together in front of the mirror, Stiles wearing the Batman costume Derek bought him almost a year ago and Derek wearing the Nightwing costume Stiles bought yesterday.

"We look cool," Stiles says.

"We look like people who enjoy DC comics."

Stiles punches him. "Shut up. I can't believe I'm dating a Marvel nerd. Oh, dude, can we wear this on the drive?"

"No. It will chafe."

"But _Comic-Con_, Derek! _Comic-con!"_

"No."

"Why am I dating you? You make terrible decisions." He stalks away from the mirror to complain to Erica, who will probably comment on how well he fills out the Batman suit these days.

Derek resists the temptation to go after him for about five seconds.

But he doesn't kiss him!

Much.

* * *

**A/N**: If you're confused, "je ne sais quoi" literally means "I don't know what" and it's commonly used to describe a mysteriously alluring quality. Often it is used in reference to women but I'm pretty sure it could go for dudes, too.

Boyd is asexual but not aromantic. Feel free to ask about that if you're confused. I alluded to it a little in part one, but part two goes a little more in depth with it. Also, people do assault asexual people, often sexually, but I figured Boyd, being a werewolf as well as a physically fit human, would be less worried about that, so all of the prejudice to him in the past was vocal.

Derek's sexuality isn't established, but it's either gray-a or demisexual. I wasn't initially going to include that, but given that I wrote him that way (on accident, honestly) it seemed right to mention it. He's not worried about it, so there's no agonizing about it.

I think...that's all I needed to mention...?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Teen Wolf. Or Batman. Or Mean Girls. Or SSX. Or PlayStation. Or anything else you recognize.


End file.
